|It's true yo.|
is overweight…and overmedicated. That’s just a scientific fact. And a personal fact. (If you’re new here, it’s important to note that today is Tuesday and so nothing here should be taken as “real”, “true” or “factual” except this part here where I’m telling you it’s a farce…) America
In the land of the free and the home of the brave we’re mostly fat medicine cabinets. Waddling pharmacies. And we have a multi mega trillion dollar industry dedicated to making us LESS fat by buying products and needing FEWER medicines by losing all that globulous fat. Except that the more these industries grow the fatter and more mediciney we get.
So what’s up, besides the scale and the stock in big pharma?
Well the cliché is that it’s not what you’re eating but rather what’s eating you.
I call bullshit. It’s what I’m eating that makes me so rotund, ample…Rubenesque, or FAT. I’m not what you’d call morbidly obese and no one from TLC wants to do a show on me because I *can* (at this point) still fit through a regulation sized doorway. But why am I easily 50 pounds heavier than my grandmother was at the same age? And why is everyone around me 50 pounds heavier than the “Greatest Generation“?
Here’s why: We’re giant gobs of excess in all ways. It’s really that simple.
I don’t move, like…at all. I live ONE mile away from a grocery store. I have lived this same one mile away for about 90% of my entire life. Are you wondering to yourself if I have EVER EVER EVER ONCE WALKED that one mile? Don’t wonder it. Duh…I haven’t.
What am I, an elite athlete?
I hate moving my person, and I adore Cheez-Whiz. I also like bacon, potato chips, French fries, hamburgers, sour cream, butter and tater tots that have been deep fried. On a good day I like to have all that piled onto one plate and dig in, growling at my children if they think they’re getting one bite. (I’ve actually never done this, but it seems like I might have to try it now because that sounds good…)
However, fat American brethren, THIS attitude is what’s making me, and possibly you, fat. If I stuffed less into my pie hole (pie IS delightful so can you really blame me?) and moved my appendages more (in a manner NOT designed to shovel more down my gullet) I bet I could shed a few of those 2nd generation pounds.
But here’s the deal. I’m a lazy, entitled American who has bought into the notion that I don’t have to do jack because the drunk founding fathers said I don’t have to…it’s somewhere in the Constitution, but the library is a mile away too and with gas at $4.15 a gallon, who am I this time? Rockefeller? I’m not, so just trust on me on this: Thomas Jefferson said I’m allowed to roll around in my own cellulitic goo.
Friends, Americans…don’t worry so much about being fat, having diabetes, cholesterol through the roof, and rampant high blood pressure! These symptoms are all Mother Nature’s way of saying,
“YOU’RE ALIVE!! Feel that blood COURSING through your brittle veins!
(Except in your feet, which you don’t need anyway because you never walk, so it’s no biggie to get them amputated from the diabetic cellulitis…)”
If God didn’t want me to be a lazy load of lard then He wouldn’t have invented all the pills allowing me to sustain this blubber.